Vas Mancipium
by SadameHime
Summary: Seeing her collared, the Courier could taste bitter defeat. Perhaps everything had begun to make sense, his rivalry with Vulpes Inculta clear in his mind. It did not have to be like this.
1. Refusal

_And watching lovers part, I feel you smiling  
>What glass splinters lie so deep in your mind<br>To tear out from your eyes with a word to stiffen brooding lies  
>But I'll only watch you leave me further behind<em>

_-The Chauffer by the Deftones_

_Hello everyone. Very recently, I started writing a story that looked at the Legion from a lighter perspective. While I do enjoy writing it, I think that the fact remains that the Legion IS dark and IS, in essence, a corrupt society. This story will explore the conversion of the Mojave's inhabitants into Legionaries and slaves, focusing primarily on a character that was the Courier's lover. _

_Please leave me your thoughts. I always find that my darker writing tends to be a little more fleshed out. Extensive editing is underway for both this story and Juno Lucina. Fresh updates may not be seen for another week or so.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Freeside's pleasant scene of broken streets, drugged out citizens, and hungry, starving children, was marred by the sea of crimson red uniforms. They came in groups of twenty. Each band of Legionaries that entered the Vegas area struck cords of unrest and fear into the hearts of Freeside's populous. Among these fearful souls was Alice Glass, caretaker of Freeside's orphan population. Up until that day, she ran a home for them to stay in. She fed them, clothed them, and watched over them without a cap's charge. Alice made enough money off of her medical expertise to pay for them, and the occasional help from her dear lover lightened the burden.<p>

Alice used to be safe. She used to be protected by the Kings, the Followers, and the Courier, but not anymore.

The day had long gone dark, and Alice sat at her window, staring out in a silent vigil over the children she had spent the better part of her life working to save. She could see the shadows of Legionaries moving all about, heard the screams of her neighbors as women and children were taken away from good husbands and lovers. She heard the men threatening those that stole their loved ones away. She heard gunfire, saw muzzle flashes so bright and shocking outside that she had more than once dropped the drape over her window, trying her best to hide herself.

All around her, little ones cried and wept in fear. They wanted her to tell them that it would be okay, but she could not bare to lie to them. She knew that they would not be spared. Even if she tried to hide them, each and every child would eventually be found, enslaved or forced into training to become the men that had torn them away from home. Each girl would face a life that would make their current one look like some sort of heaven. They would go hungry. They would be raped, molested, worked until they passed out. Alice knew she faced this life too, and the terror pumped through her veins like a drug, heightening her senses and alerting her to the horrors occurring outside her very door.

The door had been locked since she first heard about the NCR's loss at Hoover Dam. The windows had been barred by the Kings when they found out the Legion was coming. They did their best to protect her and the kids like always, and now, there was little they could do. Even now, The King's men were fighting in the streets, dying bloody, horrific deaths for something they knew they could not secure, but they fought anyway. Alice covered her mouth, trying not to join the little girls who lay on the floor, motionless if not for their frightened sobs. The boys sat with their backs against the wall, staring at the door and soaking in all of the terrible sounds.

If she were a praying woman, she might have said a few words to God to try and protect the little ones that sat all around her in fear.

Then, the knocks came.

"In the name of Caesar, open this door!"

Alice stood, and the children immediately went scrambling and screaming into the back of the house. They did not know the meaning of the word subtlety, but at least they knew to be frightened. Their screams of terror served only to alert the Legionaries outside, and they began to bang on the door a little harder.

"Do you hear us over your screaming worms, profligate? The time has come to submit to Caesar's will!"

At the time, Alice refused. She did not open the door. In fact, she did not even move from where she stood in the middle of her little living room, frozen in shock and terror and prayer. She wanted Nicolas, the man she thought she loved. He would save her. He always saved her. When the Kings could not, the Courier would save her.

When the door would not immediately yield, other Legionaries began to assault the windows, breaking the glass and attempting to pull off the bars that had been set to try and keep them out. The glass flew into the air, hitting Alice even as she turned her face away, guarding her identity from the flying debris of the Legion's assault on her home. She had enough fear in her blood to run now, taking off for the back of the house and ushering the children into the basement.

"Go, go! Hurry. Run and hide!" She urged them, pushing each and every child forward and toward their uncertain fates.

If Nicolas could not save them, she would try her damnedest.

Just as she closed the door, she heard the loud, unmistakable sound of the door cracking off of its hinges, the miserable sound of soldiers marching into her home. She stood in the doorway of her kitchen, terrified. She knew her destiny; slavery would be the only way out of her home alive. She was not ready to submit just yet.

Adrenaline moved her into the kitchen, and she scooped up a butcher knife so quickly that she had enough time to react to the first Legionary that attempted to seize her. She swung the enormous, sharp knife in the air and cut through his armor, blood squirting out of a wound she had created. The Legionary let out a blood curdling scream, causing his fellows to jump to action and Alice to battle.

Before the night was over, Alice Glass had killed two Legionaries. Their blood had dried on her flesh by daybreak.

* * *

><p>The night gave birth to the dawn, and with it a Freeside covered in the red sea of blood and the crimson flags of Caesar's Legion. Alice had enough time to adjust to her old surroundings, tainted with the disease of violence unlike any that had covered those streets before. What she had seen was war, and it appeared that war never changed.<p>

She sat now in a row with some of Freeside's other women, on her knees and refusing to look at the Legionaries that had taken them. Like so many others around her, she wanted to pretend that this was not happening. Her eventual enslavement could not be real. Nicolas, the Courier, would save her like he always did. As much as she tried to convince herself that he would, she did not feel safe. Whatever protection he had once granted her felt like a dream.

Other women were weeping, begging for mercy for themselves or their children. The gathered Legionaries could only laugh in response, call them weak. Alice would not cry. She would not beg for mercy. After so many years in the Mojave, she knew better than that. She had not come from the Strip, like some of the women kneeling on the broken streets of Freeside with her. She did not know the comfort of mercy. She only knew the hot, harsh winds of the Mojave blowing through the streets and stoking a fire inside of her she knew to be survival.

Deep down, she knew each and every one of them would be broken like the walls, streets, windows and signs all around them. These women would still be a perfect reflection of Freeside, a load of worthless trash and garbage stomped on by people who thought they were better than them. She cursed her luck, whatever god had delivered her to the hands of the Legion. Maybe there existed some god that would show her mercy.

"As promised, Courier, you may choose which woman you wish for yourself, should you be staying with the Legion," an older, rugged voice spoke not far away.

Alice's interest perked. She hoped, longed for the sight of Nicolas coming to save her, but would she really be safe? Would he protect her from the other men, shelter her from the horrible truth of what it meant to be a woman under Caesar's Legion? Did she really have the guts to abandon all of these other women to that horrible fate? The more she milled over these questions, searching for signs of the man who had kept her warm whenever he could, she felt more and more that the answer was no.

In the sea of crimson dressed men, she could see four others moving through and steadily approaching the women.

"There's one girl that I'm looking for, Caesar. Black hair, green eyes, real skinny and frail thing. Pale too. Did your Legionaries find a girl like that?" She heard the Courier speak, and her heart sank with every word.

Frail? Was she _frail?_ Was there anything frail about a woman who cared for seven abandoned children day in and day out, working her own hands to the bone for a bunch of snot nosed brats who did not even appreciate her? Her temper flared, and she looked in the direction of Nicolas' voice.

"You must be talking about the orphanage woman. She killed two men before they finally caught her. Not so frail, apparently," a smooth, snake-like voice reported to the source of her interest.

The gathered Legionaries parted as a new group came along, respect evident in the ways. Among them was the Courier, standing tall and proud in his power armor. He seemed the perfect picture of strength, if not for the man just beside him who stood just as tall and bulky, but _without_ the armor. She assumed this was the terrible Legate Lanius, and she hoped never to fall under his gaze again. An older man joined them too, a little shorter than the Legate but the picture of the Legion's standards. She knew this to be Caesar. She had heard of him before.

Lurking just behind the group was one more man, lanky compared to the men he stood with. His short cut black hair and pale skin just helped him stand out, and he had eyes like a hawk. Or a fox. Alice did not know which at the time, but she would find out in the future. Those intriguing eyes stared right at her, full of thought and wonder and _desire. _What he desired, she could not be sure, for his eyes did not scan her body with a lust she had become accustomed to in Freeside. He looked at her as a prize, a challenge, and my god, did that frighten her.

Nicolas scanned the group of women, some of them weeping louder now and begging for his protection. Alice felt appalled to see him barely swayed by their pleas. Had he been so corrupted since he was shot in the head that he forgot all semblance of what was good? His eyes fell on her, and their gazes met. The Courier stepped away from the small group of men and toward her with urgency in his step. The power armor did not seem to weigh him down, and he arrived before her so swiftly that she began to understand why he was feared throughout the Mojave. He towered over everyone, and he moved with the agility of a snake.

"Alice." "Nick."

He kneeled before her and reached out, cupping her cheek in his gloved hand. The dried blood on her face crinkled off at the slightest touch, and he looked at her with a measure of surprise. Nicolas had never seen her like this, covered in blood, beaten, defeated. Even in this earliest stage of her new life, she must have looked like an empty shell of the woman she used to be.

His touch had never revolted her before, but it did now. All of her realizations and fears played games in her stomach, caused her flesh to crawl. She would not have him anymore. He had made this happen. He had fought on behalf of the Legion and betrayed the entire desert to their destructive, hypocritical hands. He had indirectly killed and enslaved all of the people she had ever known. She could not suffer the thought that his hands, the hands that had killed and killed in the name of Caesar's Legion, would ever touch her body ever again. She would not let him.

"I can't believe you," she said.

And it was true. She could not believe him. The man she had loved would never have supported an army of men hell bent on enslaving everything in the Mojave.

"I did what was best, my dear," he tried to rationalize with her.

Everyone was looking at them, waiting for her to go with him or for him to shun her, to beat her and throw her down. She could hear their whispers, their judgmental and hungry words echoing in the crowd like a chant. Nicolas clearly fell under the scrutiny of his Legionary peers. Even if he did mean to protect her, she knew that if they stayed, he would just fall more and more into their tiny world of masculinity and she would be cast aside. She measured what would be more painful, living a life with him that would steadily decrease into servitude, or to be thrown into servitude to a man she had never met.

"What was best? Every girl here is going to be a slave. The Kings are going to fight them, you know that. They're all going to die. Good, honest men that did everything they could for me and the kids are going to die because you did what you thought was best…." Her voice cracked.

Tears threatened her eyes, but she told herself she would not cry. She would not cry for him or any other Legionary dog.

"They have a choice to become Legionaries, Alice. It's a good, honest life. They'll be put to much better use than wasting away in that trash heap of a building."

"They aren't going to take it, Nick! Some of them are already dead because they knew what this was about! All they ever preached was freedom! Becoming a Legionary is not freedom! This isn't freedom," Alice yelled at him now.

"Hold your tongue, profligate whore," the Legate's deep voice scolded," the Courier has chosen you to be his bride, and you will obey."

"…I will obey? I would rather live a thousand years a slave to the Legion than see your face ever again, Nicolas," Alice spat at him, venomous and full of a woman's scorn.

Nicolas' face became a mess of emotions she could not decipher. She saw pain. She saw anger, frustration, sadness, but she knew him. She knew what would win. He would be angry, either at her or at himself. In that respect, she did not know what would win out. Nicolas never berated himself for his mistakes; she prayed he would after that morning.

"…So be it," The Legate spoke again.

The tall, threatening man turned his back on her, holding his hand out to one of the Legionaries who held one of the explosive collars in his hands. Lanius took the collar from him with one forceful tug and he approached Alice, every muscle quaking in his movements with the power she feared. He stood like a great tower over her, his gaze borrowing into her with judgment and power. She dared not look at him. She knew what waited her.

Some of the girls called at her to run, but Alice did not run. She had asked for this. She _deserved_ this. She dropped her head, and did not look at the Legate eve as she felt metal close around her neck. She felt freedom fly out of her body, like a soul exiting a hollow corpse. Or perhaps it was the air, forced from her with a loaded kick to the stomach from the Legate.

As much as she wanted and tried to scream, not a sound came from her mouth. There was nothing there to help her do so. Alice crumbled like broken glass, slumping forward and heaving as she tried to breathe. It hurt, but she wanted Nicolas to see what he had done. Maybe when he saw her enslaved, broken down by this world of men, he would realize his mistake.

In front of her, Nicolas remained kneeling. He looked down at her, as if assessing what had transpired before him. With shaking hands, he reached out to pet her hair one final time, and just like that, she heard and felt him move away. Their wordless parting had been witnessed by all, and they had seen the glass shattered.

"Collar them all, and take them to Gomorrah. The men will have their choice of the spoils."

"Oh god!" "No, Please! No!" "Have mercy, please! You can't do this to us!"

The pleas and cries of fear reached a deafening peak as several of the Legionary men came forward. All around her, Alice could hear other women crying, trying to run. In the distance, she heard shots. She knew that some of them had gotten too far away and had been killed for their insolence. Even as she struggled for breath, she did not struggle with her fate.

The glass had been broken. It had been enslaved, to be shaped and molded into a new piece. Its new master would mold her to perfection and shape her in a way that only he could.


	2. Temple of Sins

Gomorrah had long been the haven of sin in the Mojave. The Legion had cleansed the Omertas' stronghold in the blood of the prostitutes and family members, wiping clean the sins of the past. Now, Gomorrah would be the temple to the sin of Caesar's Legion. Within the walls of Gomorrah's courtyard, the tradition of sex and lies would continue. The slaves gathered from the communities around the strip were herded into the center pool, colored red from the blood of the Omertas. The bodies had been cleared. The possessions of those that once called the place home had been taken away to be sold or distributed as Caesar saw fit. Soon, his men would be presented with the spoils of their war.

As they entered the temple of sin, each woman was stripped of all of her possessions, including the clothing on her back, and sent on her way to the courtyard. Alice had fought long enough to try and hold onto only one item, a small necklace that had belonged to her mother before her. She could not save it. She could not save anything or anyone, and as she walked through the former casino, her helplessness sank into her soul. She could not stop the fate that awaited her.

Alice went willingly into the shallow, rectangular pool unlike some of the women around her. They had to be shoved, corralled into groups and forced into their place by Legionaries that took delight in subjecting them to this kind of life. The broken glass stood at the edge of one of these pools, glancing at Legionaries that took to lounging in the circular mattresses meant for the kind of lifestyle the Omertas had promoted. Among these Legionaries, she saw the same ones who had come with Nicolas, the dark haired, pale one staring right at her.

She decided then that he had the eyes of a fox. Something about him defied all previous thoughts about hawks. Very much unlike a hawk, he did not circle around her or any of the other women. He peered right at them, hiding in plain sight and combing through any plans he might have before he attacked.

These men that had been seated on the mattresses would likely be the first to take any of them. The Legion had a way of delegating the spoils to the most deserving of their men, and she wondered what this fox-like man had done to earn a place at this dining table of flesh and fear. Alice wondered if she would be on his plate. Better him than Nicolas. Better not to know the hand that enslaves you so intimately.

She turned away, feeling the bloody water shift around her bare feet. She held her arms in front of her bare breasts, but she did not struggle to cover herself like some of the younger girls that joined her for inspection. The girl knew that, in this situation, little could be done to protect herself. It would all hurt much less if they simply went along with it and rolled with the tide fate delivered them. Alice had learned that much since she began living in Freeside.

To call her indifferent would do her no justice. Alice hated these men and what they had done to a group of women who had once been proud of whom they were. Even the women from Freeside had some semblance of pride in who they had become and what they had done for themselves. The women that she did not know, either from the Crimson Caravan or from The Strip, likely had their own lists of accomplishments that they held dear and would never forget, but not those accomplishments would mean nothing. They would be like any other woman in this world, enslaved, serving no purpose but to produce children and hold the weight of the men's world on their shoulders. Together, they would carry the burden that these men were too lazy or too weak to carry themselves on top of their conquests.

On the second floor, she heard the ringing of a gong signal for silence. All of the Legionaries immediately went quiet after speaking so loudly about what they would do to each of the women before them. This told Alice that Caesar was about to speak to them.

"Legionaries, we gather here today to take the spoils of our conquest. Here before you are the dissolute and profligate women that were either strong enough to survive us. The most distinguished men from our campaign on the Mojave will be allowed to enter the pools and take from them the woman he desires most. Take her as property. Treat her as she deserves. She is nothing more than cattle," Caesar spoke, his critical and overbearing glance staring down at all of those gathered," you know who you are, _milites,_ take what is yours."

The men that had previously reclined underneath the shade of the courtyard's canopies and atop the circular mattresses moved in with haste. Many of the women began to herd themselves to the center in fear, and Alice did not move so quickly. She had her back turned to the men originally, and as the other women began to clump together in fear, she faced them once again. The fox-like man moved in with the grace of his identity, and only his intense glance brought fear to Alice and caused her to join the rest of the women in a desperate attempt to hide.

Many of the men began to grasp and pull at them, tossing some women aside and others being dragged away to what awaited them. Women screamed in fear, begging for mercy even though they had yet to see an. Each woman that had been pulled out of Alice's way gave her a better chance to hide from the pale Legionary that evidently pursued her. She wondered what drove him on this hot pursuit or if it was all just in her head. Something about him coming after her thrilled her and mixed with the fear. This would be the beginning of a lifetime of moments where this man made her feel that way.

As she moved to once again hide behind a group of the gathered women, she felt a strong hand grab tightly onto her wrist. He had gotten her, and he pulled with such force that Alice could not resist. She fell back and landed, splashing the bloody water all over herself and the person that had latched onto her. She yelped upon impact, the stone bottom of the pool scraping her knees. With yet another strong pull, the man lifted her out of the water and began to drag her out and away from the others.

When she had finally regained her balance, Alice looked up to see that the fox-like man had indeed been the one to find her and take her back to where he had been before. Without a word, he tossed her down and crawled over her. The hunger in his eyes made her stomach flip. She did not know whether to be utterly thrilled or frightened.

"Alice is your name, correct?" He spoke.

"Yes."

"I have heard a lot about you from the Courier," his eyes took in her sight once more," and it seems that every word he spoke of you was true."

"…Nicolas told you about our sex life?"

She did not know if she should be disgusted or flattered. Could she not establish a definite sense of how she should be feeling around this man?

His straight expression twisted into a smirk, and he reached out to touch her most intimate flesh. Her body reacted with immediate rejection, grimacing away at the slightest touch of his fingertips. The fox looked down at her, bringing his body down on her to restrain her. Beneath his weight, she could neither squirm nor quiver in fear.

"My name is Vulpes Inculta, and you are mine now, Alice Glass. You resigned yourself to this fate by refusing the Courier's kind offer. I will shape you into a true woman of the Legion, and I will purge from you of your profligate ways."

* * *

><p>For Vulpes, sex with any woman was more than the act itself. To lay with a slave meant cleansing oneself of their own sins and putting them onto a lesser being. He had taken this woman named Alice who, like him, had largely been untouched by the sun of the desert in every way he could. Her punishment would be to take his sin from him. He made her aware of it as he leaned toward her, pressing all of his weight onto her to keep her still. He took in the curvature of her breasts, the round hips his hands would grow accustomed to holding. Her long black hair formed a halo around her, a ghostly reminder that she was not like the others.<p>

Her flesh felt smooth beneath his hot, calloused hands. He wondered how such a creature had ever lasted in the Mojave, but the more he moved to take her, the quicker he realized how she had survived. It appeared that his Alice, the demure little thing he had claimed to spite the Courier, had a talent for detaching herself. When he first began his onslaught on her sex, she had struggled. The fight had not yet gone from her. Only when he was inside of her, when there was no longer an alternative, Alice had given up. She had given herself to his sins, and she took them from him with little more than a whimper as she kept her eyes shut and never once looked at him.

The bloody water that had covered her stained the sheets beneath her, transferred onto his body in the most heated moments of his punishment upon her. Something about it drove him to the deepest ends of his desire, and he knew then that this would not be the last time he would have her. Vulpes would seek to truly own her. This one, he would keep. This woman never cried, much unlike the others he had the good fortune to own in his lifetime. She did not beg for mercy. She did not plead for him to stop. This profligate knew she was a filthy, worthless whore, and she gave herself to him for punishment.

Her flesh was soft, glowing in the dim sunlight that shinned in through the crack in the canopy. He enjoyed the feeling of her breasts in his hands, so soft and supple. They had to be the chief part of her that had drawn his eyes to her once she had entered the courtyard. She screamed to be touched, to be taken and punished by him and only him. He could hear the stories of the Courier's activities with her in his head when he watched her from afar, and he had moved as quickly as he could to claim her. He would allow no one else the honor.

His sins spilled into her after many long moments of her desperate whimpers permeating the air inside the canopy. He collapsed over her, holding her down with his dominating weight and stature. Though his frame was small compared to many of the other Legionaries, Alice Glass could not fight him.

Vulpes looked at her from where his head lay on the pillow beside her, and she did not even have the courage to look at him. Had this woman been so easily broken, or was this her way of fighting him? He reached out and firmly grasped her jaw, tilting her head toward him. Her green eyes stared at him, swirling with thought even if she conveyed no emotions. She simply lay there, miserable and defeated. Not a single tear swelled up in her eyes. She looked at him, and occasionally her eyes would focus on a different part of his face.

Much to his delight, everything the Courier had told him about her had been true. She was a tight fit for him, far more pleasurable than any woman Vulpes had taken to bed in a long time. Her body had all of the right curves, perfect handles for when he needed a handful of _something_ to steady himself. My god, did she feel good. He might just keep her for longer than he normally kept his female property.

With that thought, he rolled away from his new plaything and began to dress himself again. She sat up when he had finally moved away from her, but she made no attempts at getting off of the bed. She stared down at the empty space between her legs, or perhaps at her feet (Vulpes could not tell from where he was). She seemed so thoughtful all the time, and he wondered if she had come to terms with her fate so soon.

Vulpes hoped not. He wanted her to fight him every step of the way. He wanted the conquest to be a challenge, and so far, it had not.

* * *

><p>He left her alone, but outside the tent she could hear the wails and screams of the other women who knew a similar fate to her. She could hear others coming into the courtyard too, probably to enjoy the spoils of the Legion's conquest. She did not truly know fear until the tent opened again, and she hid herself and screamed when two other Legionaries peered down at her. They were armed with restraints, equipment she knew to be used for tattooing. They were going to mark her. Had it not been enough to collar her?<p>

"She's Vulpes' property. Be sure to mark her appropriately. We can't have someone pissing him off by touching her the wrong way," one of the two Legionaries spoke.

"He's a lucky prick, isn't he? She sure is something," the second one spoke, testing the strength of the rope in his hands.

The second Legionary came forward, and his strength easily overpowered Alice's meager attempts to fight him. She wiggled around in his strong hands much like a fish caught on a hook. The first one dropped his supplies on the ground to come forward and aid the man, taking handfuls of her body as he held her down. It was not necessary to grab her breasts to hold her in place so that she might be tied up, but he did it anyway. No one would get onto him for it. In that moment, he was safe from Vulpes' fury, and he meant to take advantage of it. After binding both her hands and her feet, they tied her to the mattress support. She wouldn't be able to move, and she felt more exposed before them than she ever had before Vulpes.

"Gimme the needle, Caius. I'm going to give her a pretty little mark where everyone can see it," the first man spoke, putting his hand just above her breast.

He intended to tattoo Vulpes' mark just under her collar bone. The whole process would hurt, and she would be screaming with the rest of the women. The needle brought to this man had obviously seen much use in the last few days. Alice knew she would not be the last or the first to fall under it, and as it pressed to her skin she felt the first gentle sting of the ink working its way into her flesh. In a matter of moments, everyone would know who she belonged to, for better or worse. Alice Glass belonged to Vulpes Inculta.

_Vulpes Inculta._

It felt like hours before they had finally finished marking her. She had been a special case, and she knew that by the way they talked over her and took precise care in her mark. She had been tattooed with the image of a fox, a reminder to her and everyone who looked at her that she belonged to the Frumentarius. Little did she know that his mark would save her from trouble but be the source of it as well.

"Here, girl. You're going to need something to cover up that luscious little body of yours," The second Legionary cast a bag at her, and he disappeared out of the tent after the first had untied her.

She sat up with a sob, opening the back of worn, lackluster clothing that had been thrust upon her. She dressed herself in the tight fitting underclothes and used the leather cord in the bag to tie the cloth dress she had been given to size. The broadcloth was itchy and it felt foreign. Everything felt foreign.

She finally allowed herself to cry, now that she was alone. No one would ever know that she shed tears for the part of her that she lost that day. The life she had known before, full of dreams and hope, had flown away. Now, her only hope was to keep Vulpes happy with her, to maintain her place as his slave. She did not want to know that life as a regular Legion slave was like, and with the mark of the fox upon her chest, she prayed that life would be easier for her than for the other women. So quickly, she forgot the well-being of her former friends and neighbors. All she wanted was to go to sleep at night, sobbing because one man had taken advantage of her miserable state, not two or three or four men.

It had begun. Alice Glass welcomed the inevitability of her future, as dark and terrible as she knew it to be. Acceptance would make it easier.


End file.
